


before fights

by vannral



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bickering, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vannral/pseuds/vannral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re gonna carry me bridal style. Aren’t you. I know that look, you’re totally gonna carry me bridal style.”</p><p>In which Clint and Pietro bicker about missions and well...about many things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	before fights

     “C’mon, Pietro, we gotta leave in fifteen minutes - “ 

     “Can you handle it, old man?” 

     “I’d like to be able to goddamn  _walk,_ when bad guys are shootin’ at us. Or run, which…would be way better.” 

Pietro’s chuckle is warm, low against Clint’s skin, and it makes his breath stutter; Pietro’s talented mouth has left some pretty obvious hickeys on his throat. “Do not worry, I can carry you.” 

     “You’re gonna carry me bridal style. Aren’t you. I know that look, you’re totally gonna carry me bridal style.”

     “What, so - what do you call it? Piggy back, then? I can throw you over my shoulder.” 

     “Nope, kid. No throwin’ anything.” 

Because Pietro can get  _handsy._

     “Oh? If you do not have any other way, it appears it is bridal style, then. Until proven otherwise.” 

Clint mutters grumpily: “You enjoy it way too much.” 

Pietro grins. “Of course. You are very adorable.” 

     “I resent that. I’m a grown-ass man, c’mon!“

     “Very short as well.” 

     “Go suck an egg, I’m 5′10, a - and you’re like, 5′11, so that’s neither here nor there! Pfft,  _you’re_ short”, Clint grumbles. 

     “’s okay”, Pietro murmurs, an inch between their lips; a breath, intimate and familiar. “I love you, anyway.” He kisses Clint; it’s a slow, deep kiss, and then, they rest their foreheads together.  

     “I can’t wait to hear your goddamn remarks about my hair”, Clint mutters.

     “Your hair is fine.” 

     “Nothin’ about going gray? Y’know, eventually?”

Pietro’s expression turns amused. “What about it, old man? Only handsome.” 

Clint gapes. “Wha - you’re not kiddin’ me?” 

     “No patience for  _kidding”,_ Pietro snorts, but he’s not too serious about it. “We can  _match.”_

     “Are we gonna be that kinda couple, though? If you try to get me into a sweater, then that’s that. Just  _nope._ ”  

     “No sweaters. Too itchy, I do not like them. But hair? I can deal with hair”, Pietro murmurs, tilting slightly Clint’s head and pressing a sweet,  _gentle_ kiss on Clint’s lips that leaves him  _aching,_  breathless with longing. 

He’s  _so_ head over heels in love with this sassy Sokovian asshole. 

     “Fine. Bridal style?”

     “If you do not want me to carry you so, then I won’t”, Pietro promises, and Clint knows he means it. ( _he falls in love, just a little bit more.)_

     “Nah, I’m just runnin’ my mouth. ‘s better that than having your shoulder digging into my stomach, thanks.” Clint brushes Pietro’s cheek with his fingertips. “You know I trust you with my life, right?” 

It feels important to say it, because he  _does;_ he does trust Pietro, from the bottom of his heart. 

Pietro’s gaze softens, and he leans against the touch, pressing a kiss on Clint’s palm. “Yes.”  

     “Good. Yeah”, Clint manages to say, a little choked. 

     “And I trust you. Even if your stupid stunts make  _me_ go gray”, Pietro rolls his eyes, in good-natured teasing. 

     “Pfft, no, I don’t do stupid stunts.” Pietro’s look is very flat. “Oh, like you have any say, Mr. I-go-into-battle-wearing-only-sports-wear!” 

     “You jump off of buildings. With  _arrows._ Do not deny it, I’ve seen you, and I think you are crazy.” 

     “It works!” 

     “By shortening  _my_ life, maybe. I can’t believe it.” After rolling his eyes dramatically, Pietro kisses Clint on the cheek; the stubble rasping roughly Clint’s skin; Clint’s eyes flutter close. He can smell Pietro; that familiar, comforting scent. “Do not do it this time. All right?” 

     “Can’t promise anything.”

     “Hmm.” 

     “Why, ‘cause you’re there to catch me, right?” 

Pietro laughs; a low, lovely,  _alive_ sound. “You are  _crazy.”_

     “Yeah, yeah, love you, too. C’mon, I think Stark’s about to throw a hissy fit.” 

Pietro grasps Clint’s hand; Pietro’s hands are bigger than Clint’s, just as calloused as his, and they are warm,  _safe._ Pietro raises it to his lips, presses a light, meaningful kiss on his knuckles and gazes at Clint; that determined, _fierce_ look in his  _blue, clear_ eyes that Clint’s breathing hitches. 

     “Do not be reckless”, he murmurs, voice deeper,  _honest._

     “Right back at’cha. C’mon, honey, we got work to do and assholes to deal with.”

He hears an amused snort. “I am right behind you,  _sweetheart.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I...don't even know. Kinda like stream of thought? I’m trying to get used to their voices and dialogue again.  
> Some reason Pietro is giving me a little trouble, stubborn Sokovian asshole.  
> But thank you for reading!


End file.
